


can't pretend

by AmaranthBlue



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Recall, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, both?? technically??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14099961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthBlue/pseuds/AmaranthBlue
Summary: Back in Blackwatch, Genji was the one who needed comforting, and Jesse was happy to oblige.After the Recall, Jesse's too stubborn to admit that maybe he needs some, too.





	can't pretend

**Author's Note:**

> title from [tom odell - can't pretend](https://youtu.be/sqwWposBhEY)

It's not the first time it's happened, but it's still new enough to give him pause. The walls are thin here, and he suspects it's to discourage them from indulging in any _extracurricular_ _activities,_ but really, it just makes it painfully obvious when someone isn't sleeping easy.

Jesse’s always had insomnia, but he doesn't think it's got anything to do with some tragic backstory, it's just the way he is. But he's no expert, so who knows?

So it's not the first time that he's staring at the ceiling and imagining patterns in it that he hears a distinctly electric cry next door, barely muffled through the drywall.

_Genji._

He checks the clock—barely past two in the morning—and drags himself out of bed, blankets tangled up around his legs, and stumbles to the door.

The hall is dead quiet. Most of the rooms on this floor are cleared out, all sorts of missions and ops to be done, and there weren't many here in the first place.

He knocks lightly. Tests the doorknob. Genji’s door creaks open easily. The first thing he notices in the dark is the warm red glow beneath the blankets, leaving the bed looking like a furnace, and the second is the mask laying upside down on the floor, with the dented wall behind it.

There's a strangled sort of artificial gasp, and the form beneath the thin blanket curls in on itself, though he can't tell if it's because of him.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says softly. “Doin’ alright?”

Genji’s back is to the door, and he doesn’t lift his head to answer; his shape gets smaller. “I am _fine_.” His voice is muffled, but the tightness of his tone is easy to hear.

He pauses. Considers. “I’d like to come in, if that's alright.”

It takes a long moment for him to answer, and Jesse almost considers leaving him be, if he's just gonna get the silent treatment, but Genji says, finally, “Yes, that's.. that's alright.”

Jesse eases the door shut behind him and creeps over to the bed, giving him plenty of warning as he settles his weight onto the mattress.

Genji doesn't seem to react. If anything, he curls up tighter, his face buried in the crook of his elbow.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” Jesse asks, and his drawl feels a lot heavier, almost cartoonish, when he lowers his voice, but he doesn't wanna scare him.

Genji answers by rolling over to face him. He stares, for a moment, squinting, then wraps his arms around him, buries his face in the fabric of his shirt, and a little hitched sob slips out, but neither of them acknowledge it.

With each sob, Jesse feels a knife twisting in his gut, and so he pulls him close, doing his damned best to feel like he can shield him from all the bullshit running through his head. “I got you,” he whispers, one hand sliding into the dark hair that's finally grown in after Angie finished up all the neuro-shit.

Genji's body shakes with each breath he takes, but he can feel the tension melting away in his shoulders.

So he keeps on, whispering, “You're alright. I got you, an’ you're safe. You're safe, darlin’, I promise.”

“I hate him,” Genji answers, so hushed he hardly hears it. “I hate him, I hate him, I _hate him—”_ He’s trembling with anger, fear, he can't tell, and what's the difference, anyway?

Jesse pulls him a little tighter and says, in the most gentle voice he can manage with the bolt of rage that's struck him, “I ain't lettin’ him near you. Not ever again. If I ever see that son of a bitch, I’m puttin’—”

_Six holes in him. Two for the eyes he’d scorched, three for the limbs he’d hacked off, one for the heart he'd ripped apart—_

He takes a breath, calms the fury in his tone. No use to be angry now. “I won't let him lay a hand on you, darlin’. I promise you that.”

“You would have no say in the matter,” Genji mumbles.

Jesse combs his fingers through his hair, smiling bitterly. “Darlin’,” he says, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “If you asked me to, I’d hunt him down myself and tear him to pieces.”

“Then who would be here to whisper such sweet nothings in my ear?” He says it with a wry smile, a hint of his snark, despite the still wet tears on his cheeks.

“I think a pretty face like yours’ll get on just fine without me,” he drawls, playfully dismissive, but he can't help lifting his hand to his face, tracing his thumb along his cheekbone.

Genji’s eyes flick away, almost shameful.

Jesse sets his chin on the top of his head, trying to pull him a little closer, despite the fact that they're already wrapped around each other like a car around a tree, and he wants to say the words, but he can't quite fit his mouth around them.

Genji lets out a shuddering breath, and he finally seems to have relaxed, despite the hiccup.

And just when he thinks he's almost asleep again, Genji murmurs, “I’ll kill him.”

Jesse shifts, maybe scaring him into thinking he’ll get up, because Genji’s arms tighten around him and his breath hitches, but he settles back, running his fingers through his hair and pressing his hand to his scarred up back, rubbing circles into the skin. “If that's what you wanna do, darlin’.”

“It's what I _must_ do,” Genji mumbles, finally close to sleep, he thinks.

“Then.. I’ll just hold him down for you.” He keeps his voice low and soft, almost like he's singing a lullaby, and he _might_ , actually, but he's not too sure Genji would appreciate the gesture, and it’s kinda corny, and the walls are still so thin and he’d get so much shit for it _—_

It's after that that Genji finally seems to fall asleep, at peace, and that feels.. just a little morbid. But who's he to judge?

Genji nearly wakes up a few more times during the night. His breathing turns panicked, his heartbeat is practically kicking out of his chest, and he mutters a few strings of Japanese, but Jesse manages to pull him out of it, humming a song as he rubs his back, thinking to himself that he's gotta work on picking up some Japanese.

And he almost says the words again, because he's asleep, what can it hurt? But he just can't make his mouth move.

Whatever. He’ll figure it out at some point.

 

* * *

 

It's almost a decade later, and not the first time he's had an episode. But Gibraltar is new and familiar at the same time, and it sets him off kilter, just enough that he doesn't recognize the room he wakes up in. Or, maybe, he does. But it it gives him a stab of adrenaline either way, and he falls out of bed trying to grab Peacekeeper from under the nightstand, and then he's on the floor waving a gun around like a jackass.

There's a rope around his neck and he's got his gun aimed at the door, but his hands are shaking. He knows he’d miss if someone came through it, and his heart is in his throat, and he thinks he might've already been shot, because he's got a bullet in his chest, but he doesn't know where it came from. _Sniper,_ he thinks, through a haze. _Through the window._

He's not sure how long he sits there. The silence, filled only by his panicked breaths, his pounding heart, is roaring in his ears.

The world comes back to him, slowly. The gun in his hands is heavy, and he takes a slow breath, and sets it on the floor.

 _Genji,_ he remembers. There's no reason to think he's hurt, but—he can't get the thought out of his head, that he's gonna find him all sliced up, all over again, wires sparking and blood pouring.

He stumbles to the door like he's drunk. A couple bottles he trips over clatter around and roll off, so hell, he might be.

The hall is dark. He wonders if, maybe, everyone else has the same troubles he does.

He remembers, just before sliding open the door, to knock lightly, a bare rap of his knuckles.

The room is as dark as the hall, at first, then there's a soft green glow, a rustle of movement on the bed.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jesse says, his voice thick. “Doin’ alright?”

Genji looks at him over his shoulder, squinting in the low light, his brows furrowed together. “Jesse?”

He exhales. _You're okay. You're safe._ “The one an’ only.” His voice is shakier than he likes, and it makes him sound like he was crying, but he _wasn't_ —he wipes his face and finds, _son of a bitch,_ he was. But he's fine. He's fine.

“I would be better,” Genji says, ever so delicately, “If you joined me.”

He doesn't need to say it twice. Jesse's already easing the door shut behind him, stumbling over to the bed, nearly falling over with the wave of exhaustion sliding over him like a blanket.

“Oh, Jesse..” Genji’s hand lifts to his face, brushing away the hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. “What happened?”

Jesse just shakes his head, gently wraps his arms around him, pulls him tight against him. “I just—” He stops, because his throat is too damn right, and if he cries now, he's gonna be so pissed, so he takes a shuddering breath, and starts again. “I just.. needed to know you were alright.” He cups his trembling hand against his cheek, adrenaline still roaring as he traces his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I'm alright.” Genji sets his own hand against Jesse’s. He smiles, almost sadly, his eyes flicking over his face, and Jesse can't stand the worry in them, can't stand knowing it's because of him. “Are you?”

“I won't let anythin’ happen to you,” he whispers. “You know that.”

“I know that,” Genji admits.

“I promised you, and no matter what, darlin’, you're—you’re—” And he can't finish the sentence, sobs clawing their way up his throat, making a damn fool of him, and he's shaking so bad he almost thinks he's got an earthquake inside him, and he can't make the _words work—_

Genji pulls him close, and it's a new feeling, being the one that's comforted, and he feels his face get hot, because Genji’s not supposed to be doing that, he's supposed to be checking on him, but.. _hell_ , it feels nice just to let out the breath he's been holding for what feels like years.

“Just breathe, Jesse,” he says in his ear, electric voice ever so sweet.

“Workin’ on it.” He gives a stuttering laugh, rubbing at the tears on his face, and every inhale brings cold air dragging against his throat, and it's not the best feeling in the world, but Genji’s watching him, so he keeps on breathing, breathing, just trying to stay afloat.

Genji’s fingers are tracing patterns into his back, and he's too scattered to focus on what it is. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He does, and he doesn't. He wants to blurt out all the bullshit nightmares he's had, and the bullshit panic attacks, and the bullshit, ever constant fear that he's gonna wake up and everyone in the base is gonna have a bullet between their eyes. He wants to tell him about Reyes, lurking at the back of his mind, constantly, with smoke drifting off his skin and eyes burning like embers, and then that fucked up face of his being replaced by a shotgun barrel inches from his nose. But he doesn't want him to worry. He _can't_ let him worry.

“It's nothin’,” he says, and he's usually a good liar, but not now.

Genji doesn't call him on it.

“You're safe here,” he murmurs instead, and pulls the blanket up over them. “I promise, Jesse.”

And Jesse shakes his head, because he's a damn idiot that can't resist arguing. “You're—you’re the one I’m worried about, darlin’, not me. Never me.”

Genji sighs softly, and one hand finds its way to his hair, and he combs his fingers through it like it's not the grossest it's been in a while, because he still can't get himself to take a damn shower even though it's been a fucking _week._

 _“We_ are safe,” he amends, with a sad smile. “You watched my back, and I watched yours, and we were both safe. But now, we are not the only ones.”

Jesse shuts his eyes tightly and forces himself to nod, if only so he'll keep talking.

“I know Winston is pulling an all-nighter in his lab, and Athena never sleeps, and she has _alarms_ and _sensors_ and all sorts of things. Zenyatta doesn't sleep, either. I know Lena is on guard duty, even though Athena assured her it wasn't necessary. I know that Hana is still streaming. Lucio is just as jumpy as you, and he is a light sleeper. 76 is in the gun range. Hanzo and Satya are in the kitchen, no doubt with tea.”

“You sure are nosy,” Jesse mutters, interrupting his laundry list of their new—and old—teammates.

Genji clicks his tongue. “I prefer the word ‘friendly’.”

Jesse _hmphs_ and pulls the blanket a little tighter, then squeezes Genji close again, resting his chin on top of his head. “Maybe I don't trust them all.”

“Maybe you're paranoid.”

Jesse snorts. “You remember the first words you ever said to me?”

“Oh, Jesse—” He already knows what’s coming, and he shuts his eyes and shakes his head, sheepish.

“I handed you a mug of my good hot chocolate and you said, _‘Arsenic is colorless and tasteless.’_ ”

Genji groans. “I _never—”_

“And then,” Jesse continues, thoroughly enjoying Genji’s regret at his behavior from a decade ago, “You spat out the damn Wikipedia page for arsenic, and when we asked if that was a _concern,_ you made some cryptic ass comment about your brother and drank the whole fuckin’ mug.”

“Look, I never said I _wasn't_ paranoid, just, you know.” Genji pulls back, enough to meet his eyes with that same sad smile. “Take it easy?”

Jesse shuts his eyes again to avoid the Genji’s stare burning straight through him, but it doesn't really work. Instead, he pulls Genji against him again, hand cupping the back of his head, toying with his hair. _Synthetic_ hair.

The reminder, once upon a time, would've made his blood boil, but now it's just simmering.

Especially since the culprit is, according to the victim, sitting in the kitchen sipping tea.

“I promised you I wouldn't let him near you,” he mumbles.

His voice is soft. “That was a long time ago.”

“I promised, darlin’.” And he failed to keep it, but how could he not have, when Genji had just up and disappeared?

“I chose to forgive him, Jesse.” His voice tightens, and so does his grip, before it loosens, like he's pushing out all those impulses he used to indulge. “We have all made mistakes. He deserves a second chance just as much as we did.”

That still doesn't sit right with him, but he won't argue it any further—it doesn't change the memory of Genji being so fucked up about his brother that he could barely sleep, and it sure as hell doesn't change the fact that he broke his promise, as much as it was Genji’s decision.

“I just want you safe,” he mutters.

Genji presses a kiss to his jaw. “I am. And so are you.”

He takes a slow, shuddering breath. He never managed to say the words back then, because he was too chickenshit to manage a couple syllables, even said in the dead of night when no one would’ve been there to hear it. He _thought_ it, plenty of times, but never got his mouth to cooperate until Overwatch was long dead and he was all alone.

Now, it’s barely louder than a whisper. “I love you.”

The words affect Genji more than he’d expected. More than he’d _hoped_. He pauses, in his idle tracing of patterns into his skin, and his eyes flick up to meet his, and he really smiles, and says, just as soft, “I love you, too.”

He thinks he drifts off during the night. He must've, because he feels like he goes through a damn montage of breaking the surface of nightmares, screaming himself hoarse, only for Genji to calm him down, and his voice has gotta be the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and he knows exactly what to say to get him to understand that there's no ambush, no grim reaper, that they're safe in bed and both unhurt.

It's almost annoying, but he thinks he could get used to waking up with Genji next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> psst, here's my [tumblr](http://amaranthblue.tumblr.com)


End file.
